


My Love

by Ladderofyears



Series: Drarropoly [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Auror Harry Potter, Azkaban, Cursebreaker Draco, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Smut, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), POV Second Person, Reluctant Harry Potter, Restaurants, Some Sexy Language, St Mungo's Hospital, Swearing, but there is a happy ending, comatose draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Love: so easy to feel and yet sometimes so difficult to say. Here are the five times Harry called Draco his 'love', and the one time that it really mattered.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591723
Comments: 5
Kudos: 312
Collections: Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest





	My Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was the hardest thing I've ever written. Every word was a challenge but I'm really pleased that this story has made it this far. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This is a Drarropoly 2.0 (Hotel Level) story and it is based on the following prompts: 
> 
> 1\. Saying' I love you' for the first time can be a really big deal.  
> 2\. Harry lets the moment pass him by.  
> 3\. Second Person POV.  
> 4\. Use the 5+1 format.

### 1\. 

You’re in the Ministry Canteen when it happens. 

“Love,” you say, eyeing up Draco’s plate hungrily, “if you’re not going to finish that Treacle Tart then pass it over. Shame to let it it go to waste.”

Draco raises a perfect eyebrow but doesn’t say a word in reply. He slides the plate over with a finger and you tuck in happily. Treacle Tarts are the highlight of the week and whilst the Elves always slide you a little bit extra onto your plate, it’s never quite enough. 

_Salazar_. It should have been a more momentous thing, really. Using the _L_ word to Draco. 

Thing is, you’ve been shagging. It’s been a couple of months now, give or take a few days and it seems that all your reserves of propriety are about used up. That first tight slide into Draco’s gorgeous arsehole must have hexed a few of your brain circuits because you’ve started thinking words that really shouldn’t come into the same sentence as Draco. Words like _boyfriend_. Or _couple_. 

_Gods_. You’ve even said thought the word _love_. 

And now, it seems, you’re saying it too. Love. Well. It was going to happen sooner or later. You’re a pretty affectionate wizard and your loved ones do feature pretty highly in your existence. That’s what comes from ten years of neglect and living in tiny fucking cupboards. You tend to verbalise your fondness for the people that you care about. Thinking back, you’ve probably called Ron ‘love’ a couple of times. But then, you’ve never had you lips around his cock, have you? Ergo: the stakes weren't quite as high. 

As you finish off the Treacle Tart, Draco gives you a small glance. There’s no chance on Merlin’s Green Earth that he didn’t hear you. The wizard has better hearing than a blind bloody basilisk. 

Malfoy’s grey eyes are thoughtful, but he doesn’t seem peeved about your endearment. If anything, Draco looks bemused. It’s the same look that your love gives to particularly knotty, unfathomable curses in the field. 

As if you’re a challenge to be bested. 

“ _Love_ ,” Draco enunciates, drawing out every syllable in that infuriatingly sexy-posh-boy voice that you’re starting to associate with post-coital small talk. “I didn’t realise we’d graduated to the level of nicknames. I don’t believe that I’ve ever been another man’s love before. My winning personalty tends to scare most wizards off before we graduate to that particular level of intimacy.” 

“Well. I’m not most wizards,” you reply, surprised with Draco’s candid words. He’s never spoken to you about his past partners before, and you’ve certainly never asked. “So what if I said 'love'? I've said plenty more when we’ve been in bed together.”

Draco smirked at that. “In bed? Your tongue is looser than my Father’s grip on his sanity. What was that you said yesterday? Oh yes. That you wanted to _worship at the altar of my arsehole_? Mmmm. Now that’s a memory to watch in my Pensive and no mistake. If you want to call me _love_ then I’ll acquiesce. Not on the field though. Or in front of my Mother-”

__

“You’ve never seen fit to take me home to your Mother!” you reply in an arsey tone, annoyed by Draco’s teasing and his word-perfect recall of the previous day’s compliment. “It’s little wonder no-ones ever bothered to call you love before. Pointy-faced git. You’re more fucking irritating than hex rash!” 

__

Draco just laughed. “Be that as it may. You’ll still worship me later, Harry. I can’t wait. Have a good afternoon chasing down the Dark Wizards _love_.” 

__

You stand, pushing away your sticky plate, tired of Draco and his aggravatingly attractive manner. You march away, determined not to give him the satisfaction of looking back. 

__

Of course like all your Draco-based resolutions it crumbles into a million dusty pieces as you reach the door. Malfoy is still gazing at you, all wide grey eyes and those thin, chapped aristocratic lips. 

__

And, like the lovestruck fool you are, you rush back to kiss him a proper goodbye. 

__

### 2.

__

“Draco. Love. I’m sorry. I know-” 

__

“ _Know_?” Draco looks at you with blatant disgust. His hair, normally neatly charmed into place is disorderly and greasy. Your lover’s skin is red and blotchy from crying and his eyes are bloodshot. “What I _know_ is that it was red-uniformed bastards just like you that locked Father up… And I _know_ that he’s losing his fucking mind. I know that Mother is desperately bloody lonely. Just don’t ‘love’ me. Not today… Nothing about me is remotely fucking loveable, Harry. Fuck off to your little golden friends.”

__

There’s nothing you can do. Not really. 

__

You’ve been through this before with Draco. Every month, exactly the same. Every single month Draco visits his Father in Azkaban and every single month Draco is devastated anew by what he experience. Thing is, you don’t even believe that it’s Azkaban that is the issue, but Lucius himself. 

__

The old wizard’s anger with Draco still knows no bounds. 

__

Every month Lucius needles Draco, criticising and berating his son’s life and his every choice. Though the wizard is held in magic shackles, his words still tear Draco apart with all the impact of an Unforgivable. 

__

There’s nothing you can do. You take a step back to give Draco the space he needs to vent his upset, raising your hands in a gesture of submission. Your lover has been on edge for days, picking at his food and working himself frenetically into a state of pure exhaustion. Draco has slept fitfully while you’ve lain awake, knowing and worrying that today’s breakdown was on the horizon. 

__

“I want to help you,” you say, placidly. Draco is wild, skittish like an unbroken Thestral. It won’t help matters to provoke him further. “You know that, Draco. I’m not just going to fuck off. Not to Hermione and Ron, nor anywhere else…” 

__

Draco shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t need your pathetic pity,” he snarls, skin white with fury. “You’re an _orphan_ , Harry. Whatever do you know about families? About loyalty? About fucking _fidelity?_ ” 

__

You know plenty, of course, but now really isn’t the time to remind Draco about your shared past. 

__

“I know that visiting Lucius is shit. And I know that he’s abusive towards you,” you reply, refusing to lie. Draco flinches at your truthfulness and you feel your heart clench at that. “And I know that you’re hurting right now. Fact is, I don’t pity you. I know how hard these visits are for you but still you go, month after month. I think that’s courageous.” 

__

Draco exhales slowly, visibly shrinking into himself. When he speaks again his voice is choked and emotive. “Brave like a fucking Gryffindor.” 

__

“Brave like _you"_ you reply. “Love… I know this is hard for you. But I’m here. I meant what I said before. I want to help you, Draco. Support you.” 

__

You’re tired but so is Draco. He sits in silence beside you, inscrutable as always. “I need to get myself sorted,” he mumbles eventually. “I look bloody frightful. I’m going to have a shower, Harry. Have a bit of a nap. Just… Please don’t go? After I wake up-”

__

“I’ll be here,” you promise. “Take as long as you need, love.”

__

### 3.

__

“Harry birthday, love,” you say, holding up your flute of Cristal champagne. “Merlin’s blessings!” 

__

“Thank you,” Draco replies, chinking his glass against your own. He smiles, evidently enjoying himself, and Draco’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “There’s that word again,” he announces, voice teasing but there’s something more. Something in his tone that’s a question. “ _Love_. That’s the word that’s slipping out, more and more often. You need to watch that loose tongue Potter. One day you might say something you regret.” 

__

It’s Draco’s birthday, and you have taken him to _Le Poisson Rouge_. 

__

The restaurant is very French and very fancy in a way that makes you twitch with discomfort, but you can see Draco is in his element. You watch him as he gossips easily with the mitre d’hotel, speaking the language with a fluidly that astounds you. 

__

Should you regret calling Draco your love? There is so much you want to say to Draco. Words like _darling, adore_ and _forever_ constantly threaten to spill out from inside your locked box of secret desires and slide off your tongue but there is something holding you back from speaking. 

__

There are only three little words that you need to say, really. _I love you_. 

__

So easy, so common and, bathed in the warm elegance of the restaurant, you almost manage to say them. There’s no better time, after all: Draco glows in the soft candlelight and the elegant refrain of the string quartet drifts over the pair of you. 

__

“I don’t regret calling you love,” you say, your tone a little gruff. You spear an unappetising piece of chicken on your fork, but you think twice before you consume, and lay your cutlery gently on your plate. “We’ve been together nearly a year and you’re the only man in my life. The only person that I’ve been able to stand for this long a while. You are loved, Draco. You deserve tenderness as much as any wizard.” 

__

Draco knots his hand within your own, and he gives you a lazy, indolent grin. He’s given you the opening but you’ve not dared to take it. These defence mechanisms are a barricade wrapped around your heart; a gnarled curse that you need to conquer and smash before you can truly let Draco in. 

__

Until you do, nothing will be settled between you. Nothing will locked down and _I love you_ can’t be said. 

__

“I'm loved?” Draco queries, his voice amused. “Tolerated, perhaps. When the Chosen One decides you’re a worthy bedmate there’s little one can do. One has to accept one’s place in the world.” 

__

You bite you lip, annoyed with Draco’s belittlement of himself. 

__

“Don’t be an arse,” you reply. “You’re far more than a bedmate. I’ve never had a boyfriend that I could really talk to before you… And you don’t buy into the _Saviour_ bollocks like the rest of the world. You keep me grounded, Draco. I… Well. I care about you. I don’t want anyone else.” 

__

Care and want weren't the language that Draco was brought up to honour. Lucius imbued Draco with ideas of obligation, of duty. Draco takes your hand and raises it to his lips, brushing his lips over your fingers. 

__

“No one has has ever just wanted me before,” Draco said beside you, his voice a whisper. “Not without a motive… Shall we get the bill, Harry? Make our way home love?" 

__

You haven’t said _I love you_ to Draco. Not yet. 

__

You haven’t said those three little words, but you feel a shift in the energy between you both. A subtle softening of positions. A crack in the walls that surround your heart 

__

### 4.

__

“I want you Draco,” you murmur, your voice a rumble from deep in your chest. You can feel the hum of Draco’s magic beneath your palms while the sweet vanilla scent of his skin fills your senses. You’re kissing, enjoying the slow build up to love making that you both relish. Draco’s a majestic kisser, the best you’ve ever known. He kisses you slowly, firmly, exploring the shape of your mouth with his own. Your whole body responds, skin goose-bumping and body melting into Draco’s taut physique. 

__

“Come closer, love,” you urge. “I want you.”

__

“Love,” Draco repeats, each syllable a hot breath of air against your lips. “There you go Harry, saying it again. Love, _love_. Is that what you want, Harry? Do you want me to say _I love you?_ Do you want me to confess my devotion? Because I can. I would. If that was what you wanted.” 

__

_I love you_. Three little words. So easy to say and yet still you haven’t. You pull away from the kiss, shocked at Draco’s words. You feel like you’ve been dosed with a cold water hex and everything that was good, and warm, about the kiss just evaporates. 

__

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You’re appalled with Draco’s suggestion. “Don’t say I love you because you think it’s what I want. Say it because you need to… Because you can’t go another moment without uttering the words. Not because you think it’s what I want to hear.” 

__

“They frighten me’” Draco says, sitting up a little and setting his weight across your hips. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes dark. For a second you think Draco’s embarrassed, but then you realise that isn’t right. You lover wants to confess. “These feelings that I have. They rise out of me, unbidden. My whole life I was able to differentiate. Keep my familial duties in mind. It didn’t matter what was in my heart… That could be trounced; beaten back into submission. You’ve woken up something that was dormant and that frightens me, Harry. You’ve made me want. Made me need.” 

__

You don’t reply. _I love you_ bubbles on your breath but then Draco kisses you once more, cutting the words off before you speak. 

__

His mouth is opening beneath your own and you give a soft, uncontrolled moan as his tongue brushes against your own. Draco’s hands splay hot and powerful on your back. Draco pulls you close and although you’re not hard yet, that familiar coil of lust is starting to spread through your belly. You roll your hips against Draco and thrill as your lover thrusts back. 

__

“I want you, love,” Draco says, his mouth red and wet from kissing and his voice stuttering. “You’ve made me want so much, Harry. I want everything-” 

__

Draco undulates his hips against yours and he’s hard now, ready and eager for you. “Take me to bed,” Draco urges. “please.” 

__

You love Draco like this; hair dishevelled and his eyes blurry with longing. He’s looking at you like a man in love and you want that. Fuck, but you want that so much. 

__

_I love you_ , you want to shout. You want to proclaim it from the rooftops. _I love you_. You want to tell the world. 

__

You just haven’t. Not yet. 

__

### 5.

__

You sit, waiting beside Draco’s bedside. 

__

This isn’t the first time you’ve been fire-called to the Emergency Ward of St. Mungos and summoned to Draco’s side but this is the first time that the situation has seemed so desolate. Your lover is, after all, an expert Cursebreaker but by all accounts this was a tricky, hateful little spell. It was a snare, left in situ by a criminal that had long since fled the scene. The stillness, the silence in the tiny room is disconcerting. The hours stretch before you, drawn-out and harrowing. 

__

You long for one of Draco’s snide comments, or the astute little observations that can’t help but make you laugh You’d even take one of his breakdowns, his snitty angry episodes if Draco would only come back to you, back to your side. 

__

You love him, you think. 

__

_I love you_. Three little words that you still haven’t said aloud because you thought you had all the time in the world. 

__

“The curse is tangled around his magical cortex,” the Medi-witch informs you, professionally distant, refusing to meet your eyes. “We’ll find the right incantation, of that I’m in no doubt… We’ve got a team working on it around the clock. But until then it’s a waiting game, Mr. Potter. We’re keeping him sedated to limit the potential damage but I assure you he can still hear you. Talk to him.” 

__

And you try to talk, you really do. 

__

You tell him all the trite little stories that you’ve never told another soul. Tell him about all those cold, empty nights locked in the cupboard, choking on dust, loneliness and the Dursley’s discontent. 

__

You tell Draco how you’d never felt worthy of love before. 

__

You tell him how you’d never felt like you’d wanted love until the day that you, Draco Malfoy walked into the Ministry Canteen, with a face set like you were ready to face a firing squad. You tell Draco how your heart had stuttered, but how you’d just known straight away that he was the only man you’d ever want. How some buried, unconscious part of your mind had been waiting for that moment since you were just a schoolboy. 

__

You tell Draco that you want him, exactly as he is. You tell him that you accept his patches of depression, his anxieties and his guilt. You accept every part of Draco because you love him. 

__

_I love you_ , you repeat endlessly. _I love you_. 

__

The words are pathetic. They hang in the air before fading away to nothing in this tiny, silent room. 

__

You should have told him in the restaurant or when you made love. Merlin. You should have told him months before but now it feels like it might just be too late. What does any of the past matter when the man you love is comatose before you? When Draco’s breath is so shallow that you cannot truly be sure that he is still beside you at all? 

__

“Come back,” you beg, eyes smarting and dry from long-spent tears. “I love you Draco. Love you. I know I should have said it before, but I didn’t want to risk it… Didn’t want to be the first to say it. We’ve still got so much to do. We said we’d travel… Portkey to places where we weren't defined by our histories. There are still so many years left… Years we deserve to share. I love you, Draco. Come back to me.” 

__

You don’t know how long you sit there. The thin light darkens but you’ve no idea of the hour or even what day it is. 

__

The Medi-witches creep around, administering their eternal tests and enchantments. They try incantation after incantation, but nothing seems to make a difference. You’re not ungrateful- truly you’re not- but their inability to give you a straight answer is beginning to fray at your nerves. You’ve neither eaten nor drank and your nerves jangle. Your head pounds but you don’t dare leave Draco’s side. 

__

Potions are administered. They drip slowly through medicinal tubes and you watch as Healers scratch their observations onto the parchment roll hung at the end of Draco’s bed. You don’t need to read them to know what is written: Draco isn’t getting better. 

__

“Wake up,” you hiss, suddenly angry. “I fucking love you, Draco. Love your stupid teasing and your moods. I’ll take them all. I’ll take you however you are… Just don’t leave me. Give me that much.” 

__

You cover his hand with your own as the last of the light slips from the room. You don’t want to fall asleep but your eyes are so heavy. There’s a lead weight at the back of your throat that won’t dislodge, so you lay down your head on the scratchy hospital blankets. Perhaps if you close you eyes for just a single second you’ll have some relief. 

__

You wake to the tenuous twitch of Draco’s finger. 

__

Adrenaline courses through you, and you’re fully awake within seconds. Draco has woken beside you, his eyes glassy and unfocussed. His touch is weak but as you sit there, your heart beating hard against your chest, Draco manages to squeeze the very tips of your fingers. 

__

“I love you,” he manages, in a voice that’s dry, cracked and wheezing. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry.” 

__

### 6.

__

You run then, grabbing the first Medi-witch that you see. 

__

You don’t care about the late hour, or your dishevelled, unshaven appearance. The words fall out of your mouth like a stream of consciousness. “Draco spoke to me,” you shout, pulling the witch along with you. “He’s woken up. Please come.” From then on, everything is a blur. They administer magic scans and tests, but every single one shows the right result. The best result. The miracle that you’d begged Merlin and all the deities to provide has occurred. 

__

The curse has unfurled and faded away into nothingness. 

__

“It seems we finally found the right incantation,” smiles the Chief-Mediwitch, “but I think you have to take some credit, Mr. Potter, for the recovery. Your words tethered Mr. Malfoy here when he was very sick indeed. We’ll keep him in overnight for observation but if everything is fine, then you’ll be able to take Mr. Malfoy home in the morning… I’ll leave you both to have some peace.” 

__

Draco is sat quietly when you return. You give Draco a drink of water, before helping him to sit up in bed. “That was a close one, Harry,” Draco says, laying his head back on the headboard. “There’s not a part of me that isn’t in bloody _agony_. Thought I was finished.” 

__

You join him on the bed, mumbling an annoyed ‘so did I. Don’t ever scare me like that again.’ 

__

You hold Draco’s jaw in your hands. His skin is ice cold but even so you press his lips against your own. Your lover is nervous: quivering a little and obviously still in pain but you’re desperate to feel close to him once more. You’re desperate to revel in this second chance that you’ve both been given. The pair of you are awkward, fumbling: as uncoordinated as two teenagers on their first date. 

__

“You arse,” you mumble, slipping your arm around the back of his Draco’s hospital gown. “ _Salazar_. I was so bloody frightened. Aged about a dozen years in a single night-”

__

__

__

“I really looked that dreadful?” Draco managed to tease between kisses, barely escaping your hold. “Merlin. I’d better find a myself a mirror.” You can feel the quirk of Draco’s smile beneath you lips as he speaks. You owe him three tiny words but you’re struggling to stop kissing now you’ve begun. After a few moments Draco pushes you both apart. “I think you’ve got something to say to me, now I’m back in the land of the living. Something you kept mentioning while I was asleep.” 

__

__

__

“There’s so many things I want to say,” you answer, trying to catch Draco’s lips once. “So many words. Enough for a lifetime.” 

__

__

__

“Don’t need you to tell me a lifetimes worth,” Draco whispers. “Just three words, Potter. I need to know… I’ve got to know-”

__

“You’re my love,” you say, pressing hot, urgent kisses everywhere you can reach. “My love. My everything, Draco. My past and my future.”

__

“My love,” Draco echoes stealing a kiss, “I love you, Harry. I came back because I heard your voice. I followed it home. I love you.” 

__

“ _I love you_ ,” you repeat, the words a mantra in your brain. The man in front of you is the course that you’ve chosen. He is your beloved. “You’re the love of my life, Draco. _My love_.”

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


End file.
